Dreams Do Come True (Now What?)

Well, here I am, on the cusp of seeing my dream of authorhood come true. Truthfully, I always knew it would happen, felt it down to my very bones. But as the day draws nearer, as the book reviews in national magazines get ready to appear, as my face pops up on Amazon along with some really awesome previews, as the scheduling for book readings start showing up in my calendar, I can't help but feel, well, mildly terrified. What do you do when your dreams really do come true? The idea of formulating a new dream seems somewhat daunting. I mean, this dream was a decade in the making, and, by all accounts, was very nearly unreachable. What next? What do I dare dream for? Success? Name recognition? Financial gain? It's funny, those are the obvious choices. But in truth, I just want to be read, for my work to reach as many people as possible. That's my new dream, and I know, just know, I'll wake from it with a big, bright smile on my face. For now, though, I'll just let my current dream unfold, in beautiful, full-blown technicolor.

The Art of Rejection

To be a writer is to have exceedingly thick skin. To be a gay writer is to have skin of steel. I say this knowing how the publishing industry shrinks from year to year, how the number of anthologies and the need for short stories dwindles, and how the competition grows more and more fierce. That being said, I love writing. It is a passion that consumes me. If I’m not working on a story, I feel empty inside; which is why I’m always, always working on a story. So, back to the thick skin. I started keeping diligent track of my work on 03/03/06; from between then and now, 01/06/09, nearly three years, I submitted short stories 190 times. Not 190 stories, mind you, just 190 times, all to paying markets, mostly anthologies. Not 190 stories because my stories frequently don’t find homes right away. It can take several tries, many several sometimes, before an editor accepts my work. Now, of those 190 attempts for publication, I received 65 wonderful acceptance emails and letters, emails and letters that filled me with boundless joy and satisfaction. So, you do the math; that leaves a boatload of rejection: 104 rejections, in fact. The remainder are still outstanding, editors I breathlessly wait to hear back from. 104 rejections in almost 3 years is, as you’d expect, a massive number. That’s 104 heartbreaks and heartaches. And yet, it doesn’t kill me. It’s par for the course. And, with 65 acceptances, I am, actually, shooting way above par. So, I keep my skin well-oiled, shoring up the holes and cracks as they pop up, and I weather the tumultuous storm. I have faith in my work, in my abilities as a writer, and I know my skin, thick as it is, will remain unpierced.